Deep in the grips of a Wisconsin winter when summer feels an eternity away, the daydreamers emerge from their hibernation and gaze off into space.
That trance hits everywhere, in the office, in the car, in the diner and most definitely in the classroom.
I remember that fateful day in fifth grade as if it were yesterday, not yesteryear. To combat the malaise, my teacher rolled a TV into the classroom immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.
He flicked on that black and white set, adjusted the antennae so that snowy picture came into focus and just like that the Winter Olympic Games came into view.
I suppose, well, no, I know I’m wired differently than many. Right then and there my childhood dream was born.
To compete in the Olympics? Naw, that’s what most kids cling to. Me? I wanted to write about the Olympics.
Of course, in fifth grade I had no idea how in the world to make that a reality. I just knew I would find a way.
Somehow.
Somewhere.
Someday.
Heck, in college I still had no idea how to make it happen. Same during my first string of newspaper jobs. All I knew is that I had a childhood dream, and I would never let it go.
That’s the beauty of dreams, and why I spent a number of years delivering my Dream Presentation to fifth graders hoping to inspire them to have dreams and goals.
Dreams give you a purpose. Something to shoot for.
I would tell those students my story with a multimedia show of video, music and me. How you need to keep your dreams alive no matter what. If you give up on your dream, well, then it’s over.
Done.
But if you keep the fire burning, there’s a good chance you will prevail.
Oh sure, sometimes you might go days, weeks, months and maybe even years without being able find a way to get a step closer.
But each day you can wake up and look for some way to move closer to your dream. Some days might be tiny gains, some might be huge advances.
That pretty much was my story. Somehow cycling became more than my hobby. It became my beat. Then my job.
I remember one evening in Shanghai, China, covering the first Tour of China. I was a freelancer at the time, barely making any money at all, but enjoying the time of my life. Traveling and writing about the amazing individuals who made bike racing sublime by chasing their dreams.
My roommate James Startt, another freelancer based in Europe, peppered me with questions about my future. Where are you headed? What’s the plan?
I told him, much to his shock and awe, I didn’t really have a plan. I just knew deep in my essence that what course I was on was the right one.
Low and behold, a few months later I became editor of VeloNews magazine and a press credential for the Atlanta Olympics was in my hand.
Funny thing, though, this thing called life. My first daughter Sierra was due smack dab in the middle of the Olympics. So, I passed on my childhood dream for my new dream, my best dream.
No regrets.
Somehow, four years later, a bizarre twist of events landed me in Sydney for the Olympics. Yep, half a world and countless days away from the birth of my dream in a chilly classroom in Wisconsin.
Oh yeah, baby, dreams can be inspirational. My daughters have heard my story many times.
And Sierra once wrote in a school essay, “Most people shoot for the stars. I shoot for the galaxies.”
What’s your dream? Whatever, never, ever, let it die.
Time to ride.
